The Big Tease
by Mindy35
Summary: KIBBS. Unrequited Tate. Kate thinks Gibbs doesn't notice her. She's wrong.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Big Tease

Author: Mindy

Rating: K+ mild sexual references.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Lyrics belong to Paul Kelly and Johnny Mercer and are gratefully borrowed without permission.

Spoilers: "Bikini Wax", "Conspiracy Theory".

Summary: KIBBS. Unrequited Tate. Kate thinks Gibbs doesn't notice her. She's wrong.

A/N: For Marcela, who begged.

_Part I_

"_Caught the fever, heard the tune,_

_Thought I loved her, hung my heart on the moon,_

_Started howling, made no sense,_

_Thought my friends would rush to my defense,_

_In the middle, in the middle, i__n the middle of a dream,_

_I lost my shirt, I pawned my rings, __I've done all the dumb things,_

_And I get all your good advice,_

_It doesn't stop me from going through these things twice,_

_I see the knives out, I turn my back,_

_I hear the train coming, I stay right on that track,_

_In the middle, in the middle, i__n the middle of a dream,_

_I lost my shirt, I pawned my rings, __I've done all the dumb things…."_

-x-x-x-

He wasn't paying attention to her at all. Despite the fact she'd called his name twice, despite the fact he sat not two paces away from her, and despite the fact that he'd specifically and testily demanded her attendance tonight, Gibbs was completely ignoring her presence.

He'd known she had a date tonight too. He'd crept up on her again in her favorite coffeehouse, deliberately and gleefully interrupting her conversation with Billy who worked at the White House and who apparently had a weakness for hazelnut lattes and overworked brunettes. She knew Gibbs overheard her exchange numbers and make plans with the beaming blond. But she also knew better than to protest her lack of a decent love life when her boss had other plans for her. She'd learnt that lesson early on in her career at NCIS. Matters of the heart were simply not a priority.

Kate sighed and stripped off the jacket of her pinstriped black suit. She'd been wearing the thing all day, even though it was a little too warm outside. It was only the second time she'd worn the ensemble which after thirteen hours no longer felt new, only crumpled and humid.

The first time she'd worn it however, Gibbs had actually commented on it. He hadn't _complimented_ her as such. But as they were crossing a busy parking lot after questioning a suspect, he'd run a narrow, circumspect gaze over her form, scrutinizing the new addition to her wardrobe.

"New suit?" he'd grunted non-commitally.

"Yeah," she'd replied, surprised and pleased by his regard.

Gibbs cast her another sidelong glance, squinting in the sunlight: "Suits you."

It hadn't been meant as praise – merely an observation, and somehow Kate had the uneasy feeling that by examining her choice of clothes and how they fit her, her boss was in some way dissecting her deeper character.

She'd received no further feedback on the outfit today though, not that she'd truly expected any. She knew her boss well enough to know that he only paid attention to whatever he deemed worthy. And having noticed the suit once, he was unlikely to now give it a second glance.

She'd really only reached for it this morning because she'd had a particularly unsettling, particularly precise and particularly erotic dream about a certain Silver-Haired Fox the previous night. She'd woken, mid-dream, sweaty and startled by the unruly imagery. She'd quickly attempted to divert her racing mind to White House Billy instead. She tried desperately to replace Gibbs' eyes and body and touch with those of George Clooney, Johnny Depp, or even the guy who lived on the third floor with the cute hair and the cuter girlfriend.

But her mind -- at least subconsciously -- was made up. Jethro Gibbs it was, last night -- and Jethro Gibbs it had been nearly every night since that damn airplane had dropped out of the Wichita skyline, forever altering the path of her 'til then well-planned life and career.

The shaky, weary reflection in rumpled pajamas that greeted her that morning, slumped in front of the mirror, half-asleep and horny had needed the implacable protection of a suit to face the day ahead. Just slipping into the ensemble had made her feel taller, stronger, prettier – and much more equipped to face her walking, talking, glowering, growling fantasy once again.

Kate cleared her throat, tilting her head to each side and hearing her stiff neck crackle in reply. She was having trouble concentrating on the travel records on her computer screen – records she knew were not especially pressing, despite Gibbs' insistence.

She glanced across at him crossly. She could tell he was not working very hard either. She should've been on her date with Billy. So what if she was looking forward to the chance to sit in a comfy seat and guzzle popcorn far more than she was anticipating conducting an actual conversation with her escort? At least a good Romcom would've distracted her mind from what it had been obsessing over, day and night of late.

"Gibbs?" she called for the third time, hoping he would allow her to get out of her chair, out of the damn office, out of his sight. Her stomach grumbled in agreement, not even caring if he insisted on their usual Chinese cuisine.

Gibbs didn't budge from his slumped posture, his face maintaining its distant, absorbed expression. His big hand clenched rhythmically about the little ball he gripped, his fingertips digging into its rubbery surface.

She raised her eyebrows. "Gibbs?!" she huffed again.

"Hmm?" he answered absently, still not tearing his eyes from the screen of his computer. Whatever was on it had had him fascinated for a solid, silent twenty-minute period.

Kate jolted from her chair, bored and annoyed: "What is it that you--?"

She began to march around his desk but Gibbs preempted her irritated intrusion by angling his monitor towards her, revealing what he'd been studying so intently and stopping Kate in her tracks.

"Explain this," he remarked calmly, one eyebrow raised.

Kate stared, stunned at the image of her younger self, indecently clad, soaking wet and titillatingly displayed. "I shouldn't have to!" she spluttered crossly.

Without thinking, she lurched forward, her body stretching across his desk and her hand reaching for the mouse. Gibbs' own hand shot out, easily deterring her as brown, spindly fingers curled about her wrist.

She looked up to meet his cool blue gaze and found her mouth explaining before she could stop it. "I was young," she muttered, her voice weak and indignant.

She saw her boss' eyes drift again to the computer screen, briefly re-tracing her half-naked figure. "I can see that," he commented lazily.

"And very drunk," she added hotly, willing herself to stop explaining and to, for Heaven's sake, STOP being so aroused by her boss' all too apparent interest in her exposure.

Gibbs bobbed his head at the crystal clear image. "That too," he drawled thoughtfully.

She yanked her wrist free and straightened. She knew she owed him no justification for this degrading scrap of ancient history. If anyone had crossed the line, it was DiNozzo – and him, as her boss. She closed her eyes briefly, realizing that Gibbs must have had that horrible, humiliating picture on his computer for weeks. That he'd been staring at it – at her! -- without her knowledge or consent, while she sat not two steps away.

What fired her ire more was that she really couldn't summon up the proper amount of indignation to outweigh her intense curiosity over what her boss had seen when he looked at her in that way. Her face flushed with color and fiery eyes opened to confront him. Turning on her heel, she continued on her path around his desk, her posture stiff and agitated.

"DiNozzo had no right--!" she muttered under her breath. Her course however was blocked by the lounging figure behind the desk, heavy, immovable and all too indifferent to her outrage. "Gibbs!" she shrieked in exasperation: "Stop staring at it!"

"I can't," he shrugged, cocking his head to one side.

"This is _not_ funny," she informed him stalwartly, pushing past him and placing herself between him and the offending image.

Gibbs' amused gaze climbed up to her face. "Come on, Kate," he chuckled, scooting back in his chair: "We all do dumb things when we're young."

Kate bowed her head and glanced sullenly to one side, in no way appeased by his glib dismissal or obvious nonchalance. She thought she'd left behind this incarnation of Kate Todd. She thought she'd said her final goodbye to the Kate Todd who unwittingly said or did the wrong thing only to regret it later; the Kate Todd who always seemed to run into trouble just when she was trying to evade it; the Kate Todd who had a secret impulsive streak a mile long. A reckless, passionate, brave streak that at times she'd found difficult to control.

That side of her personality only emerged in small ways now, in carefully controlled doses. She'd become accustomed to keeping it under wraps. And she did not appreciate Anthony DiNozzo resurrecting the ghost of her wild alter ego, shattering her scrupulously constructed image and parading her worst indiscretion before the one control freak whose passion and worst impulses were even more tightly hidden than her own, and whose good opinion had become her holy grail.

She dropped her head into her hand. "I'll never live this down," she moaned softly to herself.

"There are worst things," Gibbs commented quietly.

Kate looked up, her expression scathing: "Such as?"

He leaned forward, snaking a hand around her waist and grabbing the mouse. "That, for one," he pointed out, clicking onto the image of Cowboy Tony and his leather-clad companion.

She turned to look at the picture, then slowly turned back as Gibbs sank back into the comfort of his chair, looking up at her with knowing eyes. She gulped, regretting the level she'd stooped to in order to protect her dignity – only to fail anyway.

"It was self-defense," she muttered weakly after a moment. "It's not real," she admitted to the carpet beneath her bare feet.

"Yeah," Gibbs replied lowly: "Figured that much."

Kate sighed: "Abby made it for me," she continued, her wrath briefly resurfacing: "but he was blackmailing me with that-- that… thing!" she waved a hand at the computer, her tone dropping from indignant to ashamed: "and I… didn't want anyone else to see it." She met his blue gaze, still watching her closely with no apparent sympathy or outrage.

"Too late," he remarked shortly.

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest: "Gibbs," she murmured, leaning in conspiratorially: "he is driving me crazy. Can't you talk to him?"

Gibbs shifted in his chair and looked away: "Tony's harmless," he told her lightly, then stabbed a finger at her: "_You've_ got to give him a break."

Kate raised incredulous eyebrows at him: "I've got to give _him_ a break?" she repeated in disbelief. "I'll give him a break," she muttered under her breath, moving to leave her boss' cubicle: "I'll break his arm--"

A sturdy leg came up in front of her, a black boot planted firmly on the edge of the desk as Gibbs blocked her escape. Kate turned in surprise, looking down at his glinting eyes and wrinkled brow with a question in her gaze.

"Go easy on him," he ordered in a gruff, low tone.

"Why should I?" she demanded, her voice becoming slightly shrill, even to her own ears. She'd already had to infiltrate the infamous boy's club once in her short career, and she had no intention of letting DiNozzo's continuing attempts at hazing her go unchallenged or unchecked.

Her boss scooted back in his chair, his leg grazing her hip as he readjusted his foot on the desk. "Kate," he began thoughtfully: "remember when you were little, those boys who pulled your pigtails and chased you round the sandbox?"

"Yeah," she responded warily: "I hated them."

Gibbs chuffed slightly, his mouth turning up in one corner: "They liked you," he countered, rubbing the stubble on his chin and peering up at her from beneath bushy brows. "That's why they did it," he added: "to get your attention."

She furrowed her brow at him: "Your point being?"

He sighed heavily, apparently annoyed that she did not understand his metaphor. "Tony," he told her, slow and clear: "he's still….stuck in the sandbox."

Kate couldn't help a small, bemused smile: "So…" she shook her head, her gaze wandering away from her boss and his far too comfortable, far too close body: "you're saying…I should go easy on Tony…" she tipped her head at him dubiously: "because he has some immature crush?"

"No," he replied, getting to his feet and standing over her. "I'm saying," he murmured, his voice quiet and deliberate: "go easy on him, Kate…'cause he loves you."

Gibbs turned and walked away, heading for the bookshelf behind her desk. Kate's face froze and she blinked in astonishment as a sudden silence spread through the air. Pulling a thick volume from her carefully alphabetized books, he began flipping through it as she turned to look at him, not quite knowing what to say.

"Tony?" she questioned after a long moment.

"Uh hm," Gibbs nodded, not looking over at her.

Kate huffed, her expression fixed in disbelief: "Anthony DiNozzo?" she clarified skeptically.

Gibbs looked up at her momentarily but didn't say another word.

"Are we speaking about the same man?" she asked dubiously, her mind skipping back over the years that her admittedly lovable but distinctly troublesome colleague had made it his life's sole purpose to irritate, humiliate and torment her.

"Agent Todd," Gibbs announced, his tone deliberately extending the distance between them, despite their off-the-record discussion: "you might have noticed that some men-- most men," he admitted grudgingly, continuing to search her book: "have trouble expressing--" he paused, clenching his jaw.

"Feelings?" she guessed dryly.

Gibbs looked up briefly, pointing at her: "Yeah, them," he agreed glibly. "And incidentally," he noted, snapping the book closed and heading back to his desk: "some women aren't too good at picking up on them."

Kate dropped her gaze to the floor. She was well aware that she didn't have that special talent with men that some women seemed to possess. Perhaps it was growing up with three overbearing brothers or a high-achievement junkie for a father. She was still far more inclined to view the male of the species as competition, than as compeer. And, in some small way, she was still living up to the childhood conditioning she'd received which trained her to believe that the strongest contestant made war -- not love.

"What you don't seem to realize," Gibbs continued in a dry drawl, appearing beside her at his desk: "is that you're the type of woman that drives men like Tony nuts." He dropped her book onto his desk, scanning its surface with quizzical eyes. "You've been doing it for years," he added, glancing across at her, still leaning back on his desk and still stunned by their conversation.

Her hands gripped the edge of the desk as their eyes met. Gibbs' gaze roved over her features for the briefest of moments and she felt a shiver race down her spine and her breath catch in her throat.

"Only person who doesn't know it," he finished softly, breaking eye contact with her at the last moment: "is you."

Kate sighed deeply, wandering away from his desk. She stopped though, staring at Tony's corner of their area and rounding on him. "Has he said something to you?" she asked suddenly.

"No," Gibbs told her, seating himself again and propping his glasses on his nose: "Just my gut."

"Well…" she wagged her head at the floor: "I hope you're wrong..." she murmured quietly, knowing that the chances of it were slim to none: "because…..'cause I--"

"You don't feel the same," Gibbs finished for her, with a slightly sinking undertone.

She began to pace back and forth, brushing her fingers along the edge of Tony's desk: "Not for him, no," she whispered ruefully.

Gibbs pulled the book he'd stolen towards him and opened it again. "Then there's not much you can do," he shrugged sadly.

Kate was silent for a moment deep in thought, her eyes running slowly over the workstation of her mischievous colleague. The desktop was peppered with crumbs from the lunch he'd stolen from her. A figurine of the Pink Panther which he'd scored at a fast food joint was stuck on top of his computer monitor with blutack and behind his desk, the shelves were over-flowing with irregularly stacked books and unfiled folders.

She turned back to her boss, entrenched in his order and his work, his face stark and intractable in the dim lamplight. His fingers leafed delicately through her book, his brow creased in concentration, despite the glaring and crude image of DiNozzo still up on his screen.

"What would you do?" she asked finally, clearing her throat and biting her lip: "In my situation, I mean." She leant back on DiNozzo's desk, casting her gaze out the darkened window as she spoke.

"If you knew someone you worked with closely…" she took a breath, her voice fading a little: "you knew they felt--" She broke off completely, letting the sentence drop unfinished at her feet.

The silence had become deafening and hugely uncomfortable. She shifted on her feet, feeling Gibbs' shrewd stare on her pensive profile.

"Feelings fade," he croaked eventually, sounding much farther away. "Tony--" he paused, his tone stiff and short: "and you – you're young. You'll--"

Kate glanced over at him, their eyes meeting and locking together. "Get over it?" she finished edgily, one eyebrow arched sharply in his direction.

Her boss had the grace to look ever so slightly chagrined but he didn't shirk her intense gaze. She narrowed her eyes at him, once more studying the creases and curves that made up his well-known face, but which never yielded her the answers she'd been searching for for long years.

There was something elusive about Jethro Gibbs that she'd always failed to pinpoint, something infuriating about him that she'd always found necessary to challenge. She'd never met a man so brave and so terrified at the same time. She'd never met a man with so much to give, yet so unwilling to offer it.

Those endless strings of redheads she kept hearing about with mild curiosity and jealousy must have done a real number on his head. Not to mention the man's heart, which -- despite all she'd heard to the contrary-- she still felt confident did exist.

"Were you always so--?" she broke off, not realizing she'd spoken her curiosity aloud. She knit her brow, still studying him intently and still attempting to digest the staggering flippancy with which he'd delivered his latest piece of romantic advice.

Gibbs raised his head slowly from his work, carefully removing his glasses. She knew he was deciding whether to dignify her unfinished question with a true response or merely a sharp dismissal.

"Actually," he began carefully, leaning back in his chair: "I used to be a lot like Tony."

Kate raised an eyebrow and waited for him to explain.

"Cocky," he murmured after a pause, a wry smirk beginning to play about his lips: "Persistent. Oblivious." He tipped his head to one side, adding smugly: "Irresistibly charming."

The smirk blossomed into a full-blown grin and Kate couldn't help the effect it had on her. She wasn't particularly happy with him tonight but she found herself answering him with a reluctant smile anyway. And for the millionth time since she'd met him, she understood why so many women fell for this man. She knew why, probably despite their better judgement, so many married him; why so many forgave Jethro Gibbs all his obvious faults. And why she, a supposedly enlightened, modern woman of sense and reason did not condemn them for it.

She envied them.

Kate swung one leg over the other, crossing them at the knee and peering down her nose at him. "Oh yeah?" she countered skeptically, tamping down her reaction to his minor flirtation so it didn't show. Much.

"Yeah," he nodded, his voice low and gravelly. His eyes gave her a brief but distinct once over, taking in her crossed legs, her bare feet, her pinstriped skirt and rumpled white shirt. "You would've driven me nuts too," he added, almost as an after-thought, almost to himself.

Kate swallowed, averting her eyes just as she felt her boss' gaze return to her face. "Would've?" she questioned after a moment, cursing her voice for sounding so breathy.

She flicked her eyes up again to connect with his. They glowed at her from across the bullpen, steadfast and magnetic and utterly unreadable. He rocked back in his chair, apparently fully at ease with the silence and the tension that stretched between them.

"So maybe I haven't matured that much," he admitted finally, when she was just about to break the silence herself with a retraction.

She blinked at him, unable to tell where the joke ended and where the truth began. While his innuendo was undoubtedly exciting, she was starting to crave a straight answer from him. She was starting to wonder what it took to get the truth from this man. She tore her eyes from his, taking a deep breath and grasping mentally for the strands of their conversation while her heart tried to discern the staggering subtext.

"You're still cocky," she confirmed, her voice slightly shaky, slightly accusatory: "Still oblivious," she rolled her eyes, refolding her arms: "and persistent would be a major understatement."

"Charming?" Gibbs prompted, lounging in his chair and flashing her a deliberately devastating grin.

Kate looked over at him again, her expression rueful but amused. "Without even trying," she admitted with a sly smile.

Gibbs ducked his head and chuckled in response, entirely unaware of the tingles that the deep, throaty sound sent down her defenseless spine. The little rush gave her the impetus to continue along the strange path they'd stumbled onto that night.

"Sometimes, I--" she stopped, then tried again, her tone uncertain and pensive: "Sometimes, I wish I'd met you when you were young."

"Young?" Gibbs repeated edgily.

"Younger," she amended in response to his affronted expression. She smiled slightly, giving a little shrug: "I wonder whether we-- whether you--"

Whether you might have seen me differently, her mind wondered. Whether you were always so afraid, she wanted to ask, whether a younger Jethro Gibbs might have been easier to know, easier to understand. Easier to love.

The musings were not new to her brain but her tongue had never tasted them before. They felt strange and sweet and inept dripping hesitantly from her lips yet unable to be properly or fully expelled. But as she met Gibbs' eyes, she realized she didn't need to complete each sentence. He'd read her expression, her eyes. He'd heard every thought as though she'd blurted her heart's desire out in explicit detail.

"Well…." he breathed after another long pause. His eyes dropped again over her figure, tracing the curves she wished he hadn't (thanks to her sandbox-bound coworker) been privy to in such detail. Not in that way anyhow.

"That would've been illegal, Katie," he murmured sinfully, his eyes returning to hers with a buried twinkle.

She held his gaze, not hiding her curiosity. If she thought about it -- as she had, more than just once -- when Gibbs was her age now, she would still have been wearing a pleated skirt and braces on her teeth. She would've been busy trying to will her freckles to fade, trying to lighten her hair with lemon juice and persuade her mother to let her wear a bikini. Her young life consisted of learning cheerleading routines, studying trigonometry, safeguarding her diary from her quarrelsome brothers and her virginity from her quarterback boyfriend. While she was studying for finals, Gibbs was probably a married man and by the time she was attempting to pursue a career in law, he had already been to war and back.

Even at that age, at that time, she doubted she would've liked him as well as she did now. Then, she would've dismissed Jethro Gibbs as too dry, too reserved, too regimented. The young woman who acted so rebelliously on Spring Break would never have seen the quality beneath the construct, the passion behind his drive.

Still, she had always held the image in her head, of a younger Jethro Gibbs with floppy hair and an easy smile -- a man without the staunch defenses of the older version. And yet, she knew that his defensiveness somehow drew her also. It made her suspect that there was still something deep and precious worth protecting -- that despite all he'd been through, there was still something left of his heart.

Kate shook herself and stepped forward, feeling Gibbs examining her every move, her every look and breath. She would never be comfortable with his scrutiny but she was, at least, by now, accustomed to it. When she meet his eyes, she saw they now held the inscrutable glint with which he'd been contemplating the photo of her earlier. She didn't know what the look meant -- but she knew how it made her feel.

She stepped closer, sticking out her chin as she finally answered his last gravelly-voiced innuendo. "And now?" she asked quietly.

It was all mere speculation after all. Gibbs was not a floppy-haired lothario. And she was definitely no longer an innocent schoolgirl. Gibbs was Gibbs -- complete with a host of neuroses, shortcomings and mysteries. And she'd met him at the ideal time for her heart to fall in love with all of them -- with all of him.

Gibbs drew in a breath and spread his palms on his desk. "I think you know my policy on that sort of thing," he murmured warily.

Kate bit her lip, watching him flex his big hands. "And there's never an exception to the rule?" she persisted gently.

One hand plucked up his glasses from amongst the paperwork and repositioned them on his nose. "Usually," he admitted, with a downward quirk of his lips.

Kate waited for him to expand on his last comment, but it was clear that the subject died on his last ambiguous word. Another uneasy silence settled, only interrupted by the whirling of their computers and the passing cars outside.

Kate let out a breath and wandered towards the plasma screen that flanked Gibbs' workstation. Still up on the screen where mug shots of two of the dumbest characters they'd ever had the misfortune to pursue. Their antics made her Spring Break rebellion seem inconsequential in comparison.

"So, what do you think," she mused, her voice somewhat absent as she studied the two adolescents: "the age limit is for doing dumb things?"

As mortified as she was to have that horrid picture resurface at work, she must admit, those few rare days of havoc still contained some of the best times of her life. She still can't believe half the mischief she, Lauren, Belinda and Josie got up to – and she was hardly an innocent bystander. She wondered vaguely whether she was still capable of that sort of unfettered freedom, that blind enthusiasm and thoughtless fun.

"I dunno," Gibbs muttered vaguely from behind her: "I'm still doing 'em."

"I find that hard to believe," she mused, turning to face him. "What was the last dumb thing you ever did, and don't say--" she tilted her head and held up a finger in warning: "this conversation."

Gibbs spread his palms in innocence: "I wasn't gonna."

"So…?" she prompted resolutely.

Gibbs smirked: "You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

She nodded at his computer: "I thought I already did," she pointed out.

Gibbs raised his brows at her, his hand moving to cover the mouse. Kate gave him a warning look, which he ignored, clicking on the offending file and bringing up the memory in full color.

"Gibbs!" she strode towards him in desperate anger.

"This?" he questioned, unmoved.

"Gibbs--" she rushed behind his desk, leaning across him and snatching the mouse.

He didn't try to stop her hitting the delete button at the top of the screen and sending the image to the trash with a definitive flourish. Now, she thought, if she could only erase it as easily from his brain.

"That's the last dumb thing you ever did?" he murmured quietly, his voice right by her ear, his breath brushing her cheek.

Kate started, turning to look at him only to realize how close she'd come to him. Her body was bent over his lap, her arms had slipped through his and her face was on level with her boss'. She gulped and straightened slowly.

"Well," she breathed, turning away: "…maybe the second last."

After all, progressively but irrevocably falling for a man who was 18 years her senior, her superior at work, who had an iron-clad rule about romantic relationships with colleagues and, from his track record, read women about as well as she did men, was not the smartest thing she'd ever done in her life.

But she'd done it anyway. She didn't know when, she didn't quite know how – but it was done. And, she was pretty sure, they both knew it.

"So, update me," Gibbs prompted to her retreating back.

She sighed, silent for a moment. "Do I really need to say it aloud?" she mumbled, not turning to look at him until the words were out of her mouth and circling the atmosphere between them.

She met his gaze, feeling the sudden vulnerability flowing from her every pore. Her boss was such an expert at reading human behavior; she couldn't kid herself that he didn't at least suspect. But then maybe one of his agents being head over heels in love with him was just one of those unimportant issues which simply didn't garner his notice.

After all, it was not like there was a shortage of women in his life. She was sure he wasn't even seeking a relationship and women still fell all over themselves to get the attention of her boss. She saw it all the time in their work. And she also saw with what little regard and interest he dismissed each one. She had no reason to expect he would grant her more – especially considering the multiple warnings he'd given her regarding office-based romances.

She shook her head at the floor, attempting to dislodge the familiar train of thought and a furtive tear in one corner of her eye. She leant back on McGee's desk, meeting his gaze again without attempting to conceal the truth of what she was feeling. There didn't seem to be much point.

She almost wished for his wrath, for some kind of conclusive confrontation. Part of her waited for a reprimand, for the inevitable confirmation that all that existed between them was her own lust-addled, weak-willed, wishful-thinking daydreams.

If he would just say something to put her in her place; do something to make her hate him. Then maybe, she could get on with the business of finally getting over him, as he'd said. Maybe then she could come to terms with the fact that Jethro Gibbs was never meant for her, however her heart might disagree.

But Gibbs' eyes were strangely gentle, strangely guileless, and strangely curious. She didn't sense a reprimand in their intensity. She didn't see the usual defensiveness, the usual disapproval. His jaw clenched repeatedly as he studied her, his chest falling heavily beneath his shirt. Eventually, he spoke, in a hoarse but controlled tone.

"Do I?" he countered quietly, his gaze clear and steady.

Kate frowned and tipped her head to one side. Her head was swirling, her cheeks burning. Nothing he said to her right now was going to make complete sense in the state she was fast sinking into – and his unexpected tone and attitude only served to confuse her further.

"Did it ever occur to you," Gibbs continued slowly, his voice strained as it reached across the space towards her incredulous ears: "how _hard_ it's been for me?" He drew in a breath, his jaw tightening as he held her gaze: "Workin' with you all this time…" his eyes narrowed and his voice bit: "…tryin' to keep my damn hands off of you, Caitlin Todd?"

Kate blinked at him, her eyes wide and wet, her heart and mind both racing. Her mouth opened on a soundless expression of surprise and her knees began to inexplicably shake with the strain of holding her frame upright. She watched Gibbs rise from his chair and square his shoulders, his movements slow, his eyes never leaving her astonished face.

"Did it?" he rumbled in response to her continuing silence.

Kate shook her head dumbly. "Uh-uh," she managed to croak.

Gibbs released a breath and shifted on his feet, his mouth turning up in a secret smile. She waited to see whether he would step out from behind his desk, lessen the distance separating them. He didn't. He just stood there, studying her as though she was his own personal and private pin-up girl.

The scrutiny he'd previously applied to her dripping image became nothing compared to the open appreciation with which his eyes now devoured her face and form despite the gulf that separated them. She'd never felt so exposed in her life. So drunken, so disorderly. So utterly lost in one dizzying, amazing moment. She'd never felt her heart thump so hard or her face burn with comprehension and emotion and excitement. She'd never seen her boss' eyes quite so blue, his face so open. She could see his lust, his affection, his frustration, his indecision, his passion – everything he usually hid so well.

While she'd always suspected that beneath his cool and controlled exterior beat a big and brazen heart, it had never occurred to Kate that it might beat for her, it might long for her. Or that what her boss was keeping under such tight control all these years was exactly what she'd dreamt he would someday release -- on her.

And now he had. And she had no idea what to do with herself, how to construct a meaningful sentence, how to get him into her arms, and quickly. She wanted to tell him that any time he wanted to stop keeping his hands off her, she was open to altering that situation. But before either of them could say another word or make a move closer, a boisterous voice penetrated the possibility blooming about them.

"Well, after three fun-filled hours," huffed DiNozzo, heading for his desk and throwing his jacket to the floor: "I am done bagging the evidence from both apartments," he opened a draw and slammed it again, tucking his wallet into his back pocket: "and I am seriously ready for some tucker."

"When are you not?" muttered Gibbs, taking his seat and replacing his glasses once more.

Tony continued on, utterly unaware. "Kate, you up for Chinese?" he asked, approaching the silent and stationary agent.

"Huh?" she responded weakly.

"Food, Kate. Dinner," he prompted impatiently: "Let's go. I'm starved."

"Er…" she glanced at Gibbs, her voice wavering slightly: "I think Gibbs wants me -- needs me here. I think--"

Gibbs looked up, his face blank and the reflection of the lamp on his glasses hiding his eyes: "You can go."

"The travel records--" she started the say, pointing towards her desk: "I thought you wanted--"

Gibbs glanced at her desk, heaped with files. "They can wait," he shrugged mildly, then turned back to his work: "Go on. Get outta here. Both of you."

Kate bit her lip, hesitating momentarily as the disappointment welled in her chest. "Fine," she sighed under her breath, stepping towards her desk and beginning to collect her things.

Tony followed, fidgeting with his tie as he watched her and waited. "You okay?" he asked after a minute.

"I'm fine," she replied, quickly and defensively.

"You sure?" he persisted, with a quizzical expression, pointing out: "Your face is all flushed.""She finds you irresistible in leather," Gibbs muttered lowly from his desk.

"What?"

"Nothing," Kate interjected sharply: "Ignore him."

Tony's brow scrunched for a moment, then he seemed to dismiss the exchange. "Wanna join us, Boss? It's Yum Cha night tonight," he grinned, rubbing his palms together.

Gibbs looked up, glancing past DiNozzo to Kate who stood behind her desk, her face and posture still reflecting the aftereffects of their revealing intercourse. He narrowed his eyes, watching as she donned her pinstriped jacket and fed the buttons into the holes, not once shunning his unwavering gaze.

"Not hungry," Gibbs finally grumbled, lowering his head and dismissing the two from his sight: "See you in the morning."

Kate stepped around Tony, leading the way to the elevator. "Let's go," she sniffed quietly.

"What's the matter with Gibbs?" Tony hissed in her ear as he followed.

"What do you mean?" she replied dully.

"He's pissed about something," he muttered, glancing behind them at the bent back of their boss: "Wad you do?"

"Nothing!" Kate shook her head, punching the button for the elevator: "Leave it alone, DiNozzo."

"Hey, Boss!" Tony whirled around, calling back across the deserted squad room: "We'll bring you back some soup!"

"Not hungry, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled again without raising his head or his voice.

"You like their soup!" Tony insisted, his face lit up like a little boys': "We'll get you some soup!"

"Tony--!" Kate mumbled, grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him onto the elevator.

Gibbs half-smiled, half-grimaced as he listened to the last of his subordinates' squabble. He knew that even if Tony remembered to order the soup for him, it would never survive the short journey back to the office untasted or untouched.

"He doesn't _want_ soup," Kate hissed at her colleague.

"He _always_ wants soup," Tony protested as the doors began to swish together.

"He _wants_ to be alone," Kate answered firmly, her disappointed words punctuated by the dull thud of the elevator doors closing shut.

Gibbs blinked and looked up from his work.

_He wants to be alone._

He took off his glasses. _He wants to be alone_. He leant back in his chair and released a breath. _He wants… to be alone…?_

The empty silence stung his ears. He pushed two fingers into the corners of his eyes, screwing them shut and seeing a face float before his eyes, full of hope and desire and uncertainty and honesty.

And he'd just let her go. He'd let her walk out the door with another man.

He opened his eyes.

What a colossally dumb thing to do.

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Big Tease

Author: Mindy

See Part 1 for rating, disclaimer etc.

A/N: Sorry to anyone waiting on this update. I actually wrote this story a long time ago but I have been sick recently :( and totally forgot about it. Thankyou for reading everyone and especially replying. :)

_Part II_

"_When an irresistible force such as you m__eets an old immovable object like me,_

_You can bet as sure as you live, __Something gotta give, something gotta give,_

_Something's gotta give._

_When an irrepressible smile such as yours w__arms an old implacable heart such as mine._

_Don't say no because I insist, s__omewhere, somehow, someone's gonna be kissed._

_So on guard, who knows what the fates have in store f__rom their vast mysterious sky?_

_I'll try hard ignoring those lips I adore b__ut how long can anyone try?_

_Fight, Fight, Fight, Fight, Fight it with all of our might, c__hances are some heavenly star-spangled night,_

_You'll find out, as sure as we live, __Something's really gotta give."_

-x-x-x-

Kate heard her cell phone trill just as she pulled up to the curb. She killed the car engine and reached into her pocket, glancing at the caller ID on the glowing display. For a millisecond, she considered not answering, just to avoid the angst, just to escape all the unanswered questions that lay on the other end of the line.

But Kate had never purposely missed a call from her boss. And she would have to talk to him again at some point. At least over the phone was somewhat less confusing, a little less confronting. She punched the answer button and put the phone to her ear, not even able to announce her name before his familiar, demanding tone came over the line.

"Where are you?" was his obligatory opening question.

Kate sighed and stepped out of her car. "Nearly home," she answered, heading down the street towards her building. "Why," she added absently: "where are you?"

"This could be the dumbest thing I've ever done," Gibbs muttered, his voice low and deprecating but she couldn't tell if he was talking to her or himself.

"What's that?" she mumbled, her brow creased at the sidewalk beneath her sore, tired feet.

Gibbs took a breath: "Look up."

At his rumbled command, Kate raised her head. As she did, a car vacated the space in front of her building and suddenly she had an unobstructed view of her boss, lounging on her front steps in his brown coat, a brown paper bag grasped in one hand and his sharp eyes turned in her direction. Even from across the street, she could see the enigmatic twinkle in their depths.

The phone at her ear went dead.

Another car whisked by in front of her, breaking their eye contact and Kate shook herself, taking a deep breath as she slowly crossed the road. She straightened her shoulders as she approached, his blue eyes running over her length with more than noticeable appreciation.

She was suddenly pleased that she'd worn the new suit. She was also overly aware of how the sleek material clinched in at her waist, modestly accentuating every curve and every movement of her hips as she walked. His cool observation caused her to feel self-conscious even of the most innocuous action like walking.

Nevertheless, she took her time in making her way to him, trying as hard as possible to hide any nervousness or confusion. The idea that Jethro Gibbs – the man who waited on no one -- had spent a decent part of the evening waiting for her at her door sent a pleasurable little zing up her spine and made her hips swing a little smugly. And the idea that he may be waiting, wanting something more than just a casual conversation between coworkers made butterflies give birth to swirl about her belly.

She raised an eyebrow as she stopped at the foot of her steps, running a casual eye over his reclining form. Slowly, she rested one arm along the upwards slant of the railing, while her other hand slipped inside her jacket, resting low on her hip. Gibbs tipped his head to one side, his eyes following the simple gesture and seeming to dare her to be the first to speak.

Perhaps he wished her to question his unexpected appearance on her doorstep at close to midnight on a weeknight. Especially since they both knew without a single word that whatever was about to occur had nothing at all to do with NCIS. Perhaps he also had been unable to dismiss from his mind their heated exchange in the squad room earlier and had come to deal, once and for all, with the unfinished business that had been lurking between them for years.

Perhaps the implacable Agent Gibbs had, at last, gotten a clue.

"You know," Kate spoke finally, her voice cool and deliberate: "You're alot smarter than you look," she told him, answering his earlier, enigmatic comment over the phone.

Gibbs glanced up at her, heaving impatiently. "You took your time," he muttered bluntly.

Kate tossed her hair over her shoulder, peering down her nose at him. "I wasn't aware I was under curfew, Gibbs," she informed him archly.

Trust Gibbs to spring this on her unexpectedly. He obviously wanted to talk to her – and not just as her boss. But the man couldn't just call her and tell her that. He had to set up an ambush -- then blame her for not being able to read his mind about his intentions.

Of course, she mused silently, if she _had_ known he'd been waiting for her, looking unruffled yet intent, nothing could have stopped her from rushing home with her heart and mind both racing about what exactly those intentions might entail. Not that he needed to know that.

She glanced at the bottle-shaped package in his hand, looking for clues. "So, what are you doing here?" she queried lightly: "Going undercover as a hobo?"

Gibbs shifted uncomfortably on the concrete step and demanded testily: "You gonna invite me in or what?"

Kate smiled slyly, making him wait again for a moment before she silently, slowly stepped over his sprawled legs, heading for her door. She couldn't help but notice as she did that his gaze ran possessively up her ankles and calves to where her skirt lifted slightly, stretching tight over her thighs. As earlier, in the office, when they were discussing what had previously been well out of bounds, Gibbs did not seem concerned with concealing his slightly too keen interest.

She smiled to herself as she felt him get to his feet and stand a little too close to her at the door. His nearness, the presence of his breath on her neck caused her to fumble with her keys before she fit one into the lock -- the wrong one. Gibbs smiled slightly, reading her nervousness, but offering no assistance.

"By the way, Mrs McClaren says thanks for the muffins," he mumbled in her ear in a voice that was meant to sound casual but came out sounding nothing less than sinful.

Kate glanced up at him, her brow furrowed: "You met my neighbors?"

"Nice old lady," he half-answered, turning to face her and slouching against the doorframe: "We had a good chat."

Kate narrowed her eyes: "About me?"

"Well…." mused Gibbs with an evil little smirk: "mostly about your muffins."

Her eyes shot to his, her cheeks filling with color as she took in his smug expression. He seemed to find it necessary or at least highly enjoyable to forever keep her off-balance, to hold her in a perpetual state of anticipation and exasperation. She had no idea how to respond to his increased playfulness, so she turned back to the door, this time feeding the correct key into the lock.

Gibbs stood a little taller and tugged at his collar: "I think she likes me," he informed her breezily.

Kate rolled her eyes and pushed through the heavy door. "God help her," she muttered dryly.

They entered the foyer in silence, her heels clicking loudly against the tile and countering the rhythm of her thudding heart. She took a breath, pushing the elevator button and turning to face Gibbs with what she hoped was a modicum of outward poise. Gibbs mirrored her pose, standing the other side of the elevator with his shoulder leaning against the frame and one hand stuffed in his pocket. He glanced up at the numbers above the doors, watching them light up as the carriage descended.

"So how was dinner?" he murmured suddenly, his eyes returning to her face.

Kate sighed and glanced to the side. "Awkward," she admitted, hesitating before telling him: "I told Tony I loved him like a brother."

"Ouch," Gibbs winced quietly. "How'd he take it?" he asked a moment later.

Kate shrugged ruefully: "Like a man."

It hadn't taken long for Tony to sense the difference in her and, once they were seated in their usual booth at the Chinese restaurant, he'd inquired somewhat tactlessly why she was wearing her 'scrunchy face'. The look in his eyes when she'd tentatively broached the subject of their friendship only confirmed for her what Gibbs had revealed earlier.

It was not like the idea of her and Tony had never occurred to Kate. He was obviously attractive and she was pretty sure he thought she was too. They shared the same job, they were a similar age and from the beginning, they had developed a unique if, at times, exasperating rapport. She was also one of the rare women who had the opportunity to glimpse the deeper human being behind his little boy façade.

But that was where the notion lost all credibility. The idea didn't fill her with excitement or curiosity – instead, it struck her as faintly incestuous. Their relationship had never possessed that special sort of spark, that elusive magic that defies logic.

As much as she was touched by the truth of his feelings for her, she knew Anthony DiNozzo much too well to seriously consider a deeper relationship with him. They already drove each other crazy. And getting closer would only deepen the little cuts they casually inflicted on each other on a daily basis.

She and Tony were an obvious mismatch. She'd known it from their first little spat. And that undeniable logic overwhelmed any inclination she might have felt towards her charismatic colleague over the years. And there lay the ultimate difference.

She felt deeply for both Tony and Gibbs and valued their place in her life. But, in the case of Tony, sense overwhelmed any feeling. In the case of Gibbs, emotion, strong and seemingly unstoppable, overwhelmed all rationality. With Tony she was able to think straight, use her head. With his boss, she became incapable of either.

With Jethro Gibbs there was spark. With Gibbs, there was magic, excitement, curiosity, potentiality, heat. There always had been. They'd both felt it from the instant their eyes had met and, in the ensuing years, it had only grown stronger despite both of them striving to suffocate it.

The elevator dinged politely and the doors swished open. They boarded in silence, keeping a deliberate distance from each other as they simultaneously turned and leaned against the rear wall. Kate clasped her hands in front of her. Gibbs cleared his throat and the elevator hummed, beginning its ascent.

"So…." Gibbs broke the pregnant silence, his voice low and slow: "are there any other brotherly feelings….you need to," he cleared his throat again, his eyes fixed again on the ascending numbers: "….get off your chest tonight?"

She resisted the urge to smile or turn and look at him. "I think," she mused carefully: "I have enough brothers."

"Huh," Gibbs nodded as though they were discussing the ascetic design of the elevator.

The doors slid open on Kate's floor and she moved to exit but Gibbs turned towards her, grasping her elbow with one hand and stepping in so that her shoulder grazed his chest. She stayed, blinking expectantly as she turned to meet his questioning gaze.

"Fatherly feelings?" he persisted, his voice gravelly and more urgent.

Her eyes ran over his face, her body swaying slightly toward his as if magnetically drawn. As his blue eyes pinned hers, examining her face for her most honest response, without doubting she would give him one, Kate felt her entire body trembling with excitement.

No, what Jethro Gibbs inspired in her with just that low, demanding tone, just by standing that little bit too close and piercing her with those blue, inescapable eyes could never be called brotherly. Or fatherly. In fact, she wouldn't be able to locate a familial feeling right now if it entered the suddenly claustrophobic elevator and introduced itself.

Instead, her mind was full of anticipation and fire, imagining sighs and grunts, sweat and synergy, secret places and utter carnality. The lucidity and sensuality of her dream the previous night came back to her in a fast, vivid flash, surprising her and making her cheeks flush with desire.

She swallowed, taking a breath before answering breathily, boldly: "Not one."

His mouth turned up in one corner and his hand dropped from her elbow. Without backing out of her personal space, he extended his other hand, ushering her off the elevator and down the lushly carpeted hall towards her door. A car horn blared outside as they stopped at her door, penetrating their fog. It made her jump internally and seemed to mark the beginning of something new and wild and inexplicable. Gibbs stepped close again as she faced her door, keys in hand.

"Hope you like Merlot," he murmured again in that same sinful voice.

It wasn't so much what he said, but how he said it and where the words landed on her raised flesh, giving her goosebumps goosebumps of their own. His deep tone made her want to melt into a puddle of throbbing woman flesh at his feet. But that would get her nowhere.

She'd waited too long for this moment to let her rampaging hormones screw it up. She told herself that she just had to hold it together five more seconds until they could get over the threshold and then surely someone would be making a move. There certainly was no denying what was going on in both their heads.

The movie that was playing in her minds' eye made her want to hide her face from prying eyes but Gibbs seemed to be watching her over her shoulder, closely cataloguing her responses as only he could and did, even at a time like this. And while he had yet to touch her in anyway or in any place that was forbidden, the phantom heat of his body hovering closely behind hers sent vibrations of gut-wrenching desire soaring through her veins.

"I don't think I want to drink tonight," she muttered croakily, amazed that her voice even worked.

Silently, she willed her body to remain upright instead of giving in to the urge to fall back and be captured. Warmly, fiercely, completely captured by the one man who could hold her like no other ever had or probably would.

"I want to remember tonight," she added huskily, only turning to face him when the telling words were out of her mouth.

His brow furrowed slightly as he examined her face. "You won't regret it?" he rumbled, his eyes and voice giving away nothing.

"I'd regret…"she gulped, taking the risk of reaching out to touch one lapel of his jacket: "_not_…doing…this." She watched her fingers slip beneath the collar and shyly, very lightly smooth the thick brown material, feeling what she'd only imagined underneath was a broad, finely muscled chest splattered with silver. "What about you?" she whispered, looking up to see his eyes glowing with the simple touch of her errant hand.

He cleared his throat and leaned imperceptibly closer: "I've been regretting you for three years," he told her lowly. His eyes toured her features with a predatory glint: "I'm done now."

She smiled nervously, her hand resting more confidently on his chest: "Thank God," she breathed, rolling her eyes a little: "I thought I might have to dye my hair bright red just to get your attention."

He made a disapproving noise in the back his throat, his eyes dropping as he picked up a curl of her hair. He examined its color and texture, worrying the ends of the strands between his fingers. It sent a ticklish shiver from her scalp down her spine.

"You've always had my attention, Katie," he murmured huskily.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "You hid it well."

His eyes returned to hers, piercing and honest: "_Always_," he reiterated lowly.

Then his eyes dropped and before she knew it he was leaning in to claim the kiss she'd been saving for him for years -- and possibly longer. Everything grew hazy and her body went completely still, waiting for that first magic touch of his mouth on hers.

She felt his breath first, then his palm tilting her face back before his lips, hot and gentle descended on her already open and willing lips. His mouth tugged and slid, slow and confident, giving her a startling preview of what she guessed she would soon find out were a wealth of hidden talents.

His tongue traced her lower lip and touched the tip of hers but didn't venture inside. He pulled back just as a shameless whimper was building in the back of her throat. She panted softly against his mouth and opened heavy-lidded eyes to stare up at him.

"Believe me now?" he muttered, a little smug.

Kate closed her agog mouth, pursing her lips: "No," she replied archly: "But I'm sure you'll convince me."

"Count on it," he mumbled, moving in more swiftly this time so that her back landed against the door and one hand slipped inside her jacket.

She found her head tipped back against the door as he leant over her, diving into her mouth with increasing abandon. One arm banded around her waist, clutching her tightly while his free hand stole up her back, burning though the material of her thin shirt. It planted itself between her shoulder blades, firmly urging her slack body up into his. Her breasts tingled as they were crushed against his chest, her heart pounding with disbelief and arousal.

His lips broke from hers once again at the most unpredictable and heightened moment of their kiss. Kate gasped in surprise and disappointment, holding onto his big body for support. Her head lolled for a moment, her dazzled lips trying to follow his. She was starting to sense a cruel but familiar pattern in her tightly controlled boss' advances. She knew already that Jethro Gibbs was cocky, persistent and utterly irresistible.

Now, Kate was starting to think he was also a big tease.

In his seduction – like in his work – he seemed to get his thrills from skirting dangerously close to the usual boundaries, moving swiftly and boldly towards the ultimate brink -- before pulling back at the very last moment. Just like he'd done in the office that night. Just like he'd been doing to her covertly for over three years. Dangling suggestions, flaunting possibilities, extending truths but never truly following through.

Until now.

They'd overstepped a major boundary tonight and there was definitely no going back now. That did not mean, however, that Gibbs intended to quit teasing her. Apparently, he intended to wring every last erotic moment for all it was worth. And if Kate wasn't careful, she might just end up begging him to make it all end.

At least, she hoped so. It was going to be torture – in the very best sense of the word.

She squirmed in his arms, pressing her eager body closer as Gibbs' lips nibbled their way down her neck. It felt incredible to have his bulk and his smell and his moans enveloping her so completely. To have his body strain towards hers in reply. To feel him want her as intensely as she wanted him and always had. She clutched at his shoulders with both hands, her mind skipping forward to when there would be nothing separating them except a thin sheen of perspiration. Then she would really be able to feel him, every single, gorgeous part of him.

"I tell you…" he muttered roughly, tugging at her confining suit: "how incredible you look in this thing…?"

Kate would have laughed if her breath hadn't been stolen away by his teeth grazing the skin of her collarbone. "Uh…don't think so…" she murmured weakly.

"Hmmm," he hummed, his wandering hand sliding down to rest just above the swell of her ass. "First time you wore it…." he rumbled, crushing her hips into his and slowly grinding into her: "I wanted--"

Kate gasped and melted into him. He swooped again, mashing his lips to hers in illustration. The intensity of his kiss coupled with the heat their lower bodies were mindlessly generating had her both burning and liquefying at once. Her knees weakened beneath her and her hands slithered from his chest to his abdomen. She intended to push him away but her palms became so enamoured, so distracted by the feel of him that they stalled momentarily.

They seriously needed to take this out of her hallway and into the bedroom – as fast as humanly possible. She didn't even care if he finished his sentence – she got the general picture. He wanted her – and she was ecstatic. But if they didn't get inside and get naked really soon, she was afraid everything would end with a whimper instead of a bang. And she'd never be able to look Mrs McClaren in the eye again, without picturing her standing at the opposite door in her fluffy pink robe, muffin and teacup in hand and eyes wide behind her bifocals as her sexy boss drove her slowly insane against her apartment door.

Gibbs was obviously feeling the same pressure though because before she could convince her hands to push him away or her lips to say a word about the inappropriateness of their surroundings, one big paw dropped to capture hers, slipping the tightly clenched keys from her hand. She released them, not realizing they'd been digging into her palm, making a deep, sweaty imprint. His eyes and body still pinned her as he juggled the clutch of keys in his palm.

Then effortlessly, he reached behind her, slipped the key into the lock and gave a small shove. The door disappeared from behind her. Gibbs looked down at Kate, pressed so closely against his chest, then he slowly dropped the keys into the pocket of her jacket, letting his hand drift over the flank of her pinstriped hip.

"I'm sure I'll like it even better…" he told her, his voice low and deep, his eyes inspecting her crumpled clothes: "when it's on the floor."

Kate raised an eyebrow, half in challenge and half in incredulity. Gibbs was way better at seduction than she'd given him credit for, even in her dreams. After years of apparent ambivalence, he was now coming on so strong that it might prove bad for her health. He took her breath away. She was unable to breathe, move, think.

But she felt she owed it to him to be an equal opponent in this continuing dance of theirs. Taking a breath, she rolled her tongue over her lower lip and drew it between her lips. She could taste him on her swollen flesh. She could still feel the lingering heat of his touch on her hips and the delicious prickle of desire where his hard body had pressed against her so sweetly, so urgently. Summoning up the last of her self-control, she ran a hand down his arm, stealing the wine bottle from his grasp.

Then slowly, she backed inside.

Perhaps she would be needing that drink after all, she mused inwardly. She opened the door wide for him, leaning against it with her head tipped to one side. She felt loose and tousled and freer then she had in years. Dark, brown eyes gave him an avid once-over where he stood on her threshold, disheveled and expectant.

"Well," she replied with an impish smile: "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Gibbs glanced down at himself. "Careful what you wish for," he rumbled, his voice slightly dubious.

Kate cast another greedy glance over the familiar suit and long jacket he wore which would no doubt fit her bedroom floor very well. She read his doubt, however hidden he may've wanted it to be, but she didn't hesitate for a millisecond. She knew, given this chance, she would fall in love with his body because it was his and no one else's.

She'd never been with an older man before. But she didn't expect the body of a young Adonis. If that were all she was interested in, she had plenty of other options. There was no shortage of men out there who offered good looks and tight muscles -- but not what she really needed.

She'd always imagined Gibbs' physique would be more Mars, than Adonis -- the rugged and battle-worn God of War. But every warrior had his weakness. Every soldier needed a place to sleep, a soft breast to lay his head and strong arms to hold him close.

Their battle of the sexes had been waged mostly in dogged silence under a banner of evasion and misapprehension. Kate was not quite sure who had won the war -- maybe both, maybe neither. It didn't really matter because it was certainly over now. It was finally time to put aside all weapons and defenses.

Resistance was futile. It was time to make love, not war.

Kate reached out, curling two fingers into the open 'v' of Gibbs' shirt. Her fingertips grazed the soft warmth of the undershirt he always wore beneath before grasping a handful of material and gently hauling him inside her darkened apartment. He complied, moving in close and allowing his hand to slide beneath her hair to cup her head. He gazed down at her, wild eyes glinting in the low light.

"I've been careful most of my life, Gibbs," she told him quietly. She reached up, tracing his jagged jawline with her fingertips. "Let's do something really dumb," she whispered excitedly, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Gibbs smirked, pulling her into his heat. "You're on," he nodded, flinging the door shut with a definitive bang.

_END._


End file.
